Late Night Thoughts
by bzhgdm
Summary: Hermione was no other word for it, breathless. You couldn’t fault her for it, though. She had good reasons. Merely the beginning of a more than slightly amusing tale. Why not drop in and laugh at poor Hermione's predicament? HGBZ


Hermione was no other word for it, breathless. You couldn't fault her for it, though. She had good reasons. She might be a bit odd at times, but you could always count on Hermione to have a good, solid reason. Right? So there had to be a good reason for her current lack of coherence. Oh, you wanted to know the reason? Ah. Fair enough then. The story starts here...

Hermione was not quite sure what she was doing wrong. She was a girl.

She had to not be the only one who'd noticed. Ok, so she hadn't really 'grown up' until her later teenage years, but surely, considering that she went to class with boys five days a week and lived in a dormitory not far from all boys in Gryffindor, somebody ought to have commented on the fact.

She was beginning to feel rather a lost cause herself - like the house elves. Maybe she need to print posters, design flyers and make badges as she had done for SPEW. She could see the slogan in her mind's eye:

'Hermione Granger Girl'. Maybe that'd be too obvious. On the other hand, Lavender Brown had worn one of those shirts with provocative sayings on them last week in the Common Room. It said 'Take me; I'm yours' or some such. Now she was parading around with that fellow from Ravenclaw. Magnus. He'd figured her message out quick hadn't he? Not that she wanted a boy who so obviously been mis-sorted. He kept getting distracted by the taps in boys' bathroom.

Harry had had to forcefully drag him out of there after Magnus discovered that one tap was hot and one tap was cold. The story ended with a thoroughly soaked Harry and Magnus getting points off for being late to class. She overheard Harry complaining about it to Ron.

Okay. So maybe blatant advertising wasn't the way to go. Her current method of being clean, well-spoken, assertive, knowledgeable and tastefully dressed wasn't working either. So what now? It certainly wasn't as if she couldn't speak to boys; it was the opposite, in fact. They came to speak to her a lot...though it was mostly about what she thought they needed to revise on to pass their exams. Not exactly the sort of thing she wanted. She'd like a bit of romance. The only problem was how to get it. Attention getters...who knew? She decided to make a list. It was short:

Find an interest in Quidditch

Ask Ginny (vixen)

Research appropriate potions

Research applicable charms

Skirts too short

Shirts too tight

Start a rumor

Smutty laugh

Attack in hallways

Streak through the common room

Kill them all

Hermione knew by the time she'd gotten to the bottom of the list that something was odd. None of these sounded like her. Especially 'attack in hallways'. She must have been even more tired than she thought. 'Streak through common room' didn't even bear mentioning. 'Kill them all' was decidedly morbid and out of character completely.

At least that was her story and she was sticking to it. Hermione Granger, perfect in every way, entertaining wicked thoughts? Never. Insert the non-existent sophisticated and smutty laugh that echoed only in her head. She sighed. Maybe she it was time she headed in for the night. She headed back up to her dorm. The library wasn't exactly the best place to be a tired, angsty, morbid, and disappointed in mankind.

Blaise Zabini was unavoidably awake. He had been resigned to being a part insomniac long ago. Or rather a part insomniac, because some days he could force his mind to shut down. Prescribing himself some sleep and seeing to it that, he took his bitter tasting pill. Some days, not always; this was not one of those days. Luckily, he figured out the best way to deal with it - a sweet snack and a good book. Therefore, in recognition of these facts, just before curfew, he planned on swinging by the library and then heading down into the kitchens. In Second Year, he had found quite a good way of remembering the various passwords and procedures needed to successfully traverse Hogwarts...

So it was that Blaise Zabini strode into the library and chanced upon an odd vision. Unaware of what fate had in store, he strolled towards the 'angsty' Hermione, singing lightly under his breath, 'Tickle the pears my dear, alright what about the peaches? I'm moving through the castle like a dirty rascal would like to stay here with'.

Hermione was dreaming. Of course she was dreaming. Why else would Blaise Zabini, who was quite good looking, be walking towards her table, apparently singing some sort of dirty little ditty about fruit? The underlying meaning of which could only be imagined. And her imagination quite awoke in her drowsy state. She raised her head, smiled and did something Hermione would only ever do in a dream: she winked invitingly and then let out the laugh - the same one that had earlier rung around inside her head. It tinkled metallically and then it oozed like chocolate. Had it been the real world, in which it had been let loose, it would have assuredly caught someone's attention.

Blaise's eyes widened. Did Hermione Granger, the serious and studious member of the well known Gryffindor trio, just smiled captivatingly in his direction? Did the one girl who knew all the answers just imply that she had found something very funny indeed about him? He stopped short and made a quick mental check. He wasn't inappropriately dressed, his hair wasn't all askew, and he had nothing on his face - ah...

That was it. He'd been singing out loud; something he did unconsciously. What had it been? Oh. Oh. Well, it could be taken as charmingly random, couldn't it? He could always make up some story involving some roommates and a tin of potently alcoholic brandied apricots... Wait. Why not inquire as to what it meant? Couldn't be any harm in flirting with the most intelligent witch in the place, could there?

What's life without some risk?

_Infinitely safer_, declared one of his inner voices.

He decided to ignore it. After all, it was late, and he was wide awake with no one to talk to. And people always acted differently at night...right? You couldn't expect the same behavior of them in the morning...could you? If he left, he'd miss out on a truly unique experience. Not often was the best friend of Harry Potter social with the Slytherins. All he had for clues were a wink, and smile, and a really quite provocative laugh.

Blaise never could resist a mystery.


End file.
